


The Science of Dominance and Submission

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Brush, Chains, Cuffs, Dildos, F/M, Molly agrees, Plain old weird porn, Sherlock experiments, Spunk, Weird Plot Shit, Whipping, grapes, pissing, porn for the sake of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22529131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: My husband wanted me to write porn fic involving a man and a woman. It became a Sherlolly fic. Not used to doing m/w (I write m/m pairings) so this is my first.Physical pain and strangeness. A Molly who takes and a Sherlock who gives. All in the name of experimenting.This is porn for porn's sake. Weird, wonderful and silly.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 19
Kudos: 15





	The Science of Dominance and Submission

A corpse lies on the table, jumping with each stroke of my whip. Hitting it hard, not thinking, not able to dissect in my head the difference from one blow to another. I'm cocaine driven. Too high to conduct research and measure my observations.  
The door to this lab swings open, and Molly Hooper walks in, stands off to one side, watching me. I stop, turn to see her cheeks a pinkish color, her breath faster than her norm, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.  
"It gives you great pleasure to observe me, doesn't it?" my remark biting. "Be honest. It's almost an orgasmic feeling."

Molly is a repressed woman. Her greatest pleasure derives from giving of her time, her knowledge. She's always dressed very plain, a nondescript face devoid of makeup, but also extremely conscious of how others see her. Shy is a perfect definition of Molly Hooper.  
She has a childlike passion for me. When I approach her, she tends to stutter and turn her head away.  
She nods, begins to open her mouth, but my hand goes out to stop any discussion.  
"There is an experiment I have long wished to commit to but have had no willing subject. I thought, perhaps, you might assist me."  
"An experiment? What would I have to do?" bouncing, her eagerness is palpable.  
"I wish to explore the realm of bondage and submissiveness. It would require the subject to submit, mentally, and especially physically."  
"What--what--do you mean by submitting," all the color leaves her face, her hands start to twist in her lab coat.  
"The subject, you, if you permit, would be the submissive one. You would be bound and whipped and sexually used as my slave. I would be the dominant one, of course. That is to say, it would be myself that would have ultimate satisfaction. Your demands will not be thought of or met. It will hurt both physically and mentally but not enough to leave scars. There would be a time limit of one day. You will have the use of a safe word wherein I would stop all activity."  
"Sherlock--I--. You know I would do anything for you, but this--" her cheeks a bright pink as she stands with her back rigid. "Can I think about it? Can we set parameters?"  
"You have two days to decide. There are no parameters other than what I mentioned," being careful to keep my voice modulated low," I calculate one day would be enough for my research. I cannot say how long because that would depend on my endurance."  
She turns to the door, stops, swings to face me, "I trust you in every way possible. I'll let you know tomorrow."  
She will do this, I am sure.

* * *

It must not involve drugs for either of us, must exhilarate to the point of orgasms, more than one. Three would be the least. Restraints and punishments but without physical injury other than slight bruising.  
Having never had any sexual encounters before I will walk into this with a fresh mind, an open mind and a perverse sense of gratifying only myself.

* * *

Molly surprises by arriving at my flat the next morning. She's dressed in loose-fitting pants, a drab green blouse; both washed several times, her hair in a ponytail as per normal.  
"I had time to think and wanted to let you know as soon as possible that--I will agree. Why I don't know," wringing her hands, her cheeks again that bright pink. "But can you give me an idea of what to expect?"  
I motion for her to sit. She shakes her head no.  
Picking up a loose-leaf binder where my notes have been written I open it to the first page, most of it embedded in my mind already, and snap it shut.  
"Begin your day with a light breakfast. Tea and toast with some butter. I want you dressed as a hooker, your pubic hair shaved. Your attire is in this box," taking it from my desk, passing it to her, "Hair worn down, fluffed up. Your makeup, in this box also, substantial as would befit such a person. A set of clothing is needed for when you depart."  
"What else?" she seems very composed at this moment. Almost eager for it to begin.  
"Your safe word is 'peanut.' I doubt you will have any use for it," trying to impart a sense of safety.  
"I imagine you will be using that whip of yours?" she says, now biting her lip, unsure.  
"Maybe. This could be demoralizing, humiliating for you, but in its end, the result should prove beneficial to us both."  
"In what way beneficial?" chewing on her lip. "We are neophytes where anything physical is concerned--" and here she interrupts. "And this might loosen us up, right?" bouncing, her eyes bright, holding the box close to her chest, "okay, I'm willing to do this. I'm off work next Tuesday. What time?"  
My heart beats faster, " ten should be workable. The length of the day will depend on our stamina."

* * *

The next day I carry an itemized list, and run from store to store collecting all necessary items, checking and rechecking.  
Next, it's the exact placement of each item that's needed.  
Checking and rechecking. Will this work in this place? Is it good enough, strong enough to hold?  
But also I have to ask, to contemplate, on how will we react to such strong feelings. Will I be able to perform without the benefit of a drug? Will Molly back out? Will this cause harm both mentally and physically?

* * *

I knew that my downstairs neighbor was not at home. She was visiting her sister for this month. No interference.

My bedroom will be the scene for this experiment. I've bought room darkening curtains so that no light will shine in. The only brightness will be from three dozen candles located in strategic places. Towels, water both for drinking and washing, are at hand. I don't have to step to the kitchen for them.  
Chains dangle down from hooks on the ceiling. A single clamp, chains attached, is screwed into the headboard of my bed. Black leather cuffs lie on the carpeted floor. On the bed is black silk sheets and pillow. Across from the bed is a large-screen television. And a clock with a large face to record times for each transaction.  
Any supplies are in either a drawer of the nightstand, under the bed or in plain sight on the floor.  
The plan is in place. Every device is in place. All is ready.

* * *

My heart pounds when the doorbell rings and the soft sound of a woman's footsteps slowly advances up.  
Molly wears a shiny red plastic raincoat buttoned from top to bottom which is part of her costume.  
"You have been commanded to appear here to surrender yourself to me. Your master, your conqueror. From now on, you have no name, no hunger other than to pleasure. You do not look at my face but keep your eyes downcast. Undo the buttons and drop your coat."  
Shivering, pale, fingers unsteady, she loosens and drops the garment.  
Her feet tightly together, her body stiff, hands at her side, eyes cast downwards.  
I slowly walk around her to inspect.  
Her hair is fluffed, looking almost like a wire brush. Foundation pasted thickly, lips crimson red painted over the lip line. False eyelashes, black eyeliner and blue shadow.  
The dark red bustier's lace barely covers her breasts. She has on a black short skirt that skims the tops of her thighs, and on those legs are black lace stockings. Red, four-inch heels finish it off.  
"You are my slave," removing my trousers, my silk boxers holding my genitals in place, "are you not?"  
"Yes master," her voice a squeak.  
"Upstairs to my bedroom."  
"Stop. Bend over," as we reach midway up the stairs, I fold her skirt up to reveal her bare ass. Scrunching her melons in my palms, crushing them, she whimpers.  
We enter my bedroom.

She stops at the entrance, spying the chains and the paraphernalia. Visibly shaking throughout her body, Molly waits for instruction.  
Picking up the whip I swat her backside three times, she doesn't utter a noise, but totters on the stilts she's wearing.  
"Good little girl, whore that you are. You're going to give your daddy his day," snapping the bustier open, biting her neck. Leaving marks.  
I have in my hand two gold clothespin like clips and snap them onto her tits. Chains of small rings connect each one. She gasps with the sudden stab of pain.  
Licking the nibs, I pull on the chain with one hand while the other grabs her hair, tugging it sharply.  
"Hmm," she moans.  
Her short skirt is unzipped and slides to the floor. Her vagina is visible, and I massage, pinch, and twist her labia.  
"Just the beginning for my slave. Sit in the chair, spread your legs, roll down your stockings. Seduce me."  
Removing my boxers, I slide them over my engorged cock and step closer.  
"My cock and balls require your ministrations. Using your hands only. I don't want to come, not yet."  
Both hands begin by wrapping around my cock, her rhythm slow, the newness of a man's prick in her hands.  
I catch myself moaning, with a warm feeling that spreads from my genitals up to my brain. Must be attentive, keep a mental record of all pleasure, the extent, and the magnitude.  
"To my bed. On your stomach," as I reluctantly move away, my cock half full, pre-come leaking.  
I set her arms over her head; leather straps clamp over her wrists and chains wind in the loops. I can turn her front and back without removing these shackles.  
Whomp! The sound of the whip on her back. She wiggles, she moans into the pillow. Welts rise, and I'm analyzing sizes and shapes.  
"Open your legs wide," setting the whip aside, the cuffs wrapped about her ankles, the chains slipping through loops. Grabbing her hips, I raise them and look at her butt hole. It pulses and vibrates, and for seconds I regard its motion.  
On to the next step, I think, taking up the tube of lubricant, greasing two fingers, slipping them into her pussy hole. Twisting, then scissoring them, "I will enter you from the back, eventually," my fingers slide out, and next, my dick, now hard, enters.  
She groans with the entrance into that personal of spaces.  
"Bitch, cunt, whore," slapping her ass cheek hard enough that my hand stings and her cheek brighten with color.  
"Move, you slut. Wiggle. Give me my money's worth."  
Her hips twitch, and too soon, I come. Sliding my dick out, I smack her cheeks, biting them, leaving small bruises, teeth marks.  
The first orgasm. My body shakes with the intensity, my mind going offline. Could it improve with more stimulants? There's some hidden under the kitchen sink. No. Have to see this through without and for the next one I'll use.  
I lay her down, and after ten minutes of my resting, I reach for my binder on my desk to scribble in notes.

* * *

"Master, I need to pee," she says, wriggling.  
Unhooking the chains, I cuff her wrists together and lead her to the bathroom.  
"Get into that tub," as she looks into my eyes, questioning, I step in beside her.  
A hairbrush is in my hand, and I scrap it across her breasts, each bristle claiming pinpoints on her round globes.  
"Don't ever question, either with voice or eyes," scuffing her once more, as I listen to her sharp intake of breath.  
"Your legs wide as you can, begin urinating," dropping the brush.  
Little by little drops fall, then begins a torrent of yellow piss.  
I reach down and push two fingers up her cunt hole, the liquid washing over my hand.  
"Continue," as it dribbles down her legs.  
Drip by drop it finalizes, my fingers pull out, "taste your pee. Lick it," those two digits smear her liquid on her lips. I scoop any remaining piss in the palm of my hand and trickle it in my slave's long hair.  
"Back to the bed. Lie on your back," pulling on the tit chain to lead her.  
Chains are on her again, her legs spread wide, leaving herself available.  
I wash my hands and take up my notebook to write about this last event.  
I had computed the estimated time for urination for both of us. She was ahead of schedule.  
"I'll make tea and porridge for us. What do you say to your master?"  
"Thank you," her wet hair spread on the pillow.  
"Is that how I'm talked to by my whore?"  
A second hairbrush is in the nightstand drawer, and I pick it up, waiting. "Master. It is an honor to pee with you watching. I hope you enjoyed," her eyes averted. The chains are on, but this time her legs are spread wide, leaving herself available.  
I pull the tit chains and run the hairbrush down her stomach and to her crack, leaving lines of red stripes, enough to sting but not permanent.  
Her body springs and flinches as the pain hits.  
"Slaves must be grateful for any blessing their master honors them with."  
Standing, I'm astonished how exploitable Molly is. Can one do that with any person given the right atmosphere and fear of the perpetrator? More writing in the notebook. 

One new realization is my use of smutty language.  
Never would I have used them openly, and it's alarming how sexually turned I am.

* * *

I make porridge and tea and bring it to the bedroom. Raising her to a sitting position, I put the porridge on the spoon and place it in her open mouth.  
A few spoonfuls, and, "oh, you've spilled," tipping the bowl and letting it drip down her chest, "and you reek of piss," tut-tutting."  
Finishing the meal, I remove a small dildo from my drawer.  
" A treat. Open wide."  
Unhooking Molly," it's time to bathe. I'll soon need another orgasm."  
Standing in the tub, I announce, " Before we clean you up, I have the urge to urinate, and your body is in the way," sighing.  
She doesn't move, her head down, her hair hiding her face.  
Holding my cock as the liquid spills, I begin washing her legs, saying, "hold open your vaginal lips," my pee coats her hands and clit.  
Squirting further up, I wet her stomach and her breasts. My cock is almost fully engorged even as the liquid spills over her body.  
"On your knees," commanding, and drown her hair and her face.  
"Spit the dildo out, and open your mouth. You know you want to taste my piss," my warm pee fizzing inside, her tongue, her teeth soaked.  
"Swallow," as each last drop shakes into her mouth.  
I turn on the shower and put the dildo into her mouth.  
Drying us, I'm intensely hard and pulsing with my need. Can't wait another moment.  
Pushing Molly to her knees, I remove the dildo and shove my dick into her mouth, throbbing my come down her throat. She gags, and the vicious, white juice runs over her chin and neck.  
My body is weak with the after effect, and with an effort, I pull her up, and we walk to the bed.  
"You're a slut. And sluts deserve to have their masters spunk on their bodies."  
My binder is again recording the experiment. This orgasm was stimulating to all of my senses.  
One fault I do find in my calculations is the time it would take for my body to recover. I will have to do the research, marking in the book the exact time and specifics of ejaculation. 

* * *

Sighing to myself, I turn on the telly and lie on the bed next to her.  
I've inserted the dildo in her mouth, with a hand on the tit chains, pulling at it occasionally.  
I bought pornography movies and spliced them together. A mass of naked women and men on blankets in all positions. Sucking, fucking, pissing. I hear her heavy breathing knowing that she's aroused and wanting.  
"Wouldn't you like it if I touched your clit? Made you come? But you're not going to get that satisfaction."  
Her body shudders, her hips raise, and I take delight in her discomfort.  
It exhilarates me. It is tantalizing, this control, this power. Oddly, I can commend the men and women who resort to this form of gratification. It stimulates as a narcotic would.

* * *

"We are about to set in motion the next phase."  
A small bowl of grapes has been waiting its turn on my dresser, and set it next to me and let her see them. Without warning to her, I insert one in her pussy hole and one in her ass hole.  
She gasps, the instinct is to push out, and she tries.  
"Do not allow them to be released out. There are serious repercussions that will transpire if you do."  
The dildo is out of her mouth, "one grape for your mouth," putting it in" one grape for the other orifices."  
Three towels on top of one another are situated under her hips to catch any fallout.  
Three each have been buried into her cavities, "keep them in until I say otherwise," and begin a count of seconds.  
Whining, keening, while her eyes fill with tears, and I can see her physically compress her lower part.  
"Thirty seconds. You can push. What kind of control do you have? Can you rid yourself of the fruit in your ass first?"  
She bears down as if giving birth and three from her rear pop, with some excrement following.  
Quickly following is a gush of urine and each grape falls from her vagina to land on the towels.  
Dragging the towels out from under her I roll them up and set them in the bathtub.  
More notes carefully documented.

"You can manage small objects deposited with not much discomfort. I'm giving you a warning because you have complied so well. Each of your holes will shelter my cock as I orgasm to completion," the pink dildo in her mouth.  
I place a hairbrush and spoon on her chest. She sees them, and her eyes widen, shrieking sounds from deep in her throat, her hands pull at the chains.  
Removing the arm chains, I help her stand.  
"Legs wide, "and with several wiggles introduce the handle of the brush into her cunt hole and the handle of the spoon in her ass.  
Tears roll down her face, and I sense humiliation drives this terror.  
"Walk across the room, and don't let them drop."  
She hobbles her way to the far end and turning to come back; the brush falls to the floor.  
"Little bitch, slut," pushing her onto the bed on her stomach, I lift the whip, remove the spoon, and swat her ass five times.  
She's crying into the pillow, her mouth still filled. I add the spoon again.  
"Get up, and we'll do this once more," pulling the brush out and placing a carrot into her cunt hole.  
"Such a tramp. Willing to do anything for your master. Walk."  
On her feet, she shuffles around, the absurdity of what is occurring is hardening my cock.  
"On your knees and spit out the dildo."  
My body vibrating with my craving, my cock enters her mouth.  
"Your tongue should roll over every inch," gripping her hair, wrenching her head to bob along with my rhythm.  
With a loud cry, I pulsate, my white semen choking her, spilling on her chin and chest.  
I remove the spoon and let her sit on the chair, while I crumple on the bed.  
After resting a few minutes, I pick up my notebook and write. A goal for next time, if there were one, would be to implant larger items.

* * *

Molly is asleep, her head tilts to one side, body slouches like a rag doll. Her hair is in tangles, face wet, and slick with come. From the redness of her nipples held by the clothespins to the orange vegetable protruding from the shaved area, she looks pathetically absurd.  
Does a dom ever have compassion for his sub? It would be at this time that the roleplay might discontinue, I believe. What if this was a case of a pathologically criminal mind? Would he be sensitive to the picture in front of him?  
Questions that I have to research answers to.

* * *

An hour passes and I shake Molly awake. She jumps, turns her head, and remembering her situation, sits straight up, hands folded in her lap, eyes cast down.  
Opening my nightstand drawer, "We have more work to do. Stand up and lean over," putting the replica of a penis in her ass.  
She chuckles when I produce a child's binky willingly takes it to pop in her mouth.  
I remove the vegetable and tie her wrists to the chains with her lying on her stomach. My hands tremble, my body feels as if I've run a mile. There is a reason as to why this reaction but it will wait for some other period of time. 

Leaning down, I pull out two black bellow suction cups from under the bed. Four inches round with heavy metal rings at each high point. They were made especially for this next procedure. I've hung two chains from the ceiling and pull them down and through the suction cup rings.  
I calculated the force needed to suction the cups to her ass and pull her cheeks apart. I hope it is right.

Climbing on my bed, I position myself behind my slave and raise her hips.  
Before I make use of the suctions, I feel compelled to explain.  
" These suction cups will be attached to your ass cheeks and will spread them wide. It will give me greater ease into your hole." I have to hold her to attain the needed adhesion, and then I can easily examine her pulsing hole. It quivers open and close. Pinkish-brown with the skin wrinkled. No wonder it's called a pucker hole. One finger tickles the edge, and it vibrates to the touch. Lubing up my fingers, I slide one into that opening with ease. Molly moans, and her instinct is to evacuate the foreign object.  
"Curious to evaluate your ass hole. If it is going to contain my cock," and without waiting, I push the other two inside, scissoring them.  
Crying into the pillow, she pushes evacuate me.  
"Stop that! Your attempts at foiling my examination will only have you whipped," my voice harsher than I meant it to be.  
My cock is dripping it's pre-come, and it's obvious I have to release soon. My investigation has to be discontinued and, with a pop, my digits are out.  
I had investigated many condoms and bought the thinnest to get the greatest experience of intensity without interference.  
Once the condom was secure, I lean back on my haunches and survey my next move.  
Her ass hole is seducing me, but I am determined to follow the guidelines that I had worked on.  
My cock drives into her pussy, once, twice, and out. Changing condoms before each entrance. It's her ass hole, once, twice and out. I continue this rhythm twice more, pussy in, pussy out, ass hole in, ass hole out. Waiting. Jerking out of her ass I can't contain it any longer, removing the condom and letting my spunk spill into her hole, her cheeks and sliding down to her open vaginal area.  
I swipe my come onto my fingers and slather her face. Wiping more of my spunk onto my fingers, I pull out the binky and give her my sticky fingers to suck.  
Collapsing on the bed, "You're a good slave. I have to wait before my penis rises again. But, when it does, where would you want me to release. Your mouth, your pussy, or your ass. You are allowed to answer."  
Her tears have run into the sticky come, she whispers," my ass."  
"Why don't you suck my cock and balls like you did the binky. That should bring it to attention quicker."  
The shackles removed, I lie down, my legs wide. She lies between them on her stomach. My cock is tacky, smelling of my semen. Her tongue rolls round my limp cock and balls. Bringing the whole of my flaccid cock into her mouth, she slowly begins a cadence, a flow of movement that quickens. Her hands cup my balls and squeezes.

It takes time but the firmness returns.  
All the chains are in place again, and I kneel behind her, raising her hips. Doggie-style this is called. I plant one finger, then two, then three into her ass. The suction cups still installed, I remove my fingers and clean her anus and surrounding area.

* * *

The investigation into this world of my sexual liberation would not be complete without an act I find repulsive. Obsessed with accomplishing this to the end, I clear my throat, wipe my tongue over my lips, and tamp down my emotion.  
Moving my face closer, my tongue out, and with its very tip, I cautiously touch the wrinkled, vibrating aperture. Teasing along the crevice of her behind, I slip my tongue in. The taste, the sensation is not as disastrous as expected. The only odors I inhale are sweat and ammonia from my semen.  
My cock is greedy, anxious, and holding it by the tips of my fingers, I rub against her ass, teasing. The knowledge that I'll explode immediately sends my cock diving into that hole, all the way in, no condom.  
She muffles her screams, trying to move away. But the chains, the suction cups hold her steady.  
My balls bounce against her cheeks and with two pushes I convulse, my balls constrict and waves and waves of come release.

Falling onto the bed, used up, I draw deep breaths. I've accomplished my goals. All that is left is to write up my treatise.  
Laughing, throwing my hands in the air, "thank you, my lovely accomplice. Thank you. You've been so cooperative, so willing."  
I untangle Molly from each chain and tell her to shower and dress.  
"Take your time, and I'll have tea brewing and something to eat."  
Hair once again in the ponytail, she's dressed, and in quiet we sit, each to our thoughts.  
" Was it good enough? Did you get what you wanted?" Her voice is stronger, more self assured. The insecurities seem to have vanished.  
"Yes, and more so. You were such a good study."  
"Could I now ask for something for my cooperation? Just one thing, one simple thing? " that shyness back into her voice, eyes on the teacup.  
"Look directly at me, Molly Hooper. We are equals. Whatever you want, I will grant."  
Eye to eye she hesitates while I wait.  
"What do you want," with as much emotion as I can bring to bear.  
"A kiss. Just one simple kiss."


End file.
